We had the good fortune to spend a week in Phoenix over Christmas. This meant that we enjoyed a significant “weather dividend.” That’s a term that a friend and I use for the benefit that one gains from not being in the Upper Midwest during the winter. For us, it’s the temperature difference between Minnesota and a warmer place. (In summer the situation reverses, and the Upper Midwest earns the dividend, at least compared to most places.)

While we were in Phoenix, the weather dividend was pretty significant: highs there were in the 60s, lows in the 40s. Temperatures in Minneapolis were about sixty degrees lower! Lows for December 23 were around minus 12, highs around zero. If you were in Minnesota at this time, you were faced with a big weather deficit (presuming you like your weather warm).

Please don’t take this to mean that I don’t enjoy the winter or want to spend the whole season somewhere else. I enjoy winter sports like skiing, skating, and sledding, and I enjoy the beauty of a snow-covered landscape. In order to have those things, you need to have the temperature below freezing most of the time; you need to also accept that snow and slush and ice come with the package. However, I do enjoy a respite from winter and a change of scenery, and Arizona is a nice place for that. Thus we were “snowbirds” for a week–one of those southward-traveling migrants in search of milder weather.

We were staying with my wife’s grandparents in Sun City West, about an hour northwest of Phoenix. The city is one of those retirement “lifestyle communities” built by the developer Del Webb. It’s the kind of place with strict rules: at least one person in the household has to be 55 or older; no one can be under 21. You can’t have cars in the driveway; indeed, the driveways are immaculate, many of them made of a specially surfaced concrete with a shine and colored designs that make them seem clean enough to eat off of.

A large percentage of the Sun City folk are transplanted Midwesterners. Seeing the people there, you might think you were in Mason City, Iowa or Marshfield, Wisconsin. It’s not unusual for houses to bear signs indicating the names and hometown of the residents. We saw one such sign in the shape of Iowa.

We made only one trip from Sun City West during our visit, and that was to see the home of another Upper Midwestern snowbird, the architect Frank Lloyd Wright. Wright was born in Spring Green, Wisconsin, a town in southwestern Wisconsin, not far from Madison. He had a home in Spring Green that he called Taliesin, and after becoming enamored of Arizona, he built a winter home and workplace in Scottsdale, next to Phoenix. He called it Taliesin West.

Taliesin West is well worth a visit for those who are interested in architecture. It’s a good example of Wright’s principle of “organic” architecture–buildings that blend in with the surrounding natural environment and use local building materials. The low, horizontal lines of Taliesin West’s buildings match the flatness of the valley floors, but the look is different from Wright’s Prairie Style homes. An occasional angled peak in the roof mimics the surrounding mountains. The rooms have a cave-like feel, as if they were cut from the desert rock, but are nevertheless light thanks to features such as canvas-covered roofs or well-placed windows.

I came away from the visit with a renewed sense of Wright’s genius. As Phoenix booms, it would do well to follow the example of Wright’s organic architecture more than it is now. It seems strange that this American master is not more celebrated by your average American, including your average American homeowner, developer, or contractor.

Note:

My prayers go out to all those suffering from the recent earthquake and tsunamis in South and Southeast Asia. My sympathy is all the more heightened because of an incidental connection to the disaster. My sister is living in South Korea this year, and she planned to fly to Phuket, Thailand, on Monday, December 27. The earthquake and tsunamis hit only the day before, Sunday the 26th, and her trip was canceled. She later found out that the hotel she was to have stayed in was completely destroyed. If the crust of the earth had moved only hours later, her fate may have been very different.

Shortly after our long trip from California to Minnesota in July, we set up our household in Northfield, Minnesota. We had bought a townhouse near St. Olaf College, where my wife will begin teaching in February. We began the challenging tasks of unpacking and setting up the house, caring for our then-four-month-old daughter, and continuing to work. I telecommuted for my old employer until the end of August, while my wife handled most of our daughter’s care that month. Read the rest of this entry »

We left California in July of this year. Our four-month-old daughter did not travel well in the car, so she and my wife flew to Minnesota, while my mother and I drove. My mother, bless her heart, had flown out to help us pack and to accompany me on the 2,000-mile drive from Davis to my parents’ home west of Minneapolis, where we would stay for a few days before moving into our new place in Northfield. Read the rest of this entry »

For Californians, something did not compute when we said that we were moving to Minnesota. Most of their replies to our announcement were in this vein:
“It’s cold there.”
“Oh, cold!” (accompanied by a shiver)
“What about the winters?”
“Do you know what it’s like there?!” (implied: damn cold!)
“I’ll never go through winters like that again.”

I had one conversation about the move with a relative who is a California native. She was perplexed about our choice and asked lots of questions, such as, “What will you do with your baby in the winter?” I tried to reassure her that millions of babies get by just fine in winter. Children love the snow. People do lots of things outside for most of the winter, and there’s lots to do inside, of course. I think she remained unconvinced.

In that conversation, I was slightly amused by my relative’s attitude about winter, and I didn’t feel like I had to convert her to a more positive view of Minnesota. But more often I felt slightly depressed, irritated, or defensive after hearing negative comments about Minnesota and its cold winters. Something in the comments, a lack of appreciation or a demonstration of ignorance, grated on me. It was obvious that Minnesota meant one thing to me and something quite different to most other people. For me it had been home for most of my life, site of countless experiences and memories, backdrop for my youthful dreams, and the location where my family still lived. For others it was simply an image encountered in the media or, less likely, a memory of freezing cold encountered on a visit or while living here.

The negative replies also deflated my enthusiasm about the move. But why should I have expected any other reply, and why should I let them get me down? I shouldn’t have, but their monotony was boring and frustrating, as is the fact that I will keep hearing them into the future.

But here I am complaining. When someone makes the typical reply about Minnesota, the best thing I can do is keep things light and tell a joke. Here are a few jokes I might use to keep things on a lighter note, many of which will be known to other residents of cold places.

The first three are all answers to the riddle, “What are Minnesota’s two seasons?” There are three answers that I know of:
“Winter and the Fourth of July.”
“Winter is coming and winter is here.”
“Winter and road construction.”

Another joke is the mock Minnesota state motto that has circulated on the Internet: “Many are cold but few are frozen.”

* * *

Many of these things are relative. Minnesota is one of the coldest states in the lower 48, frequently mentioned as the cold spot in the country. But what if it was part of, say, Canada (which sometimes doesn’t sound too bad). It would be one of the most southerly provinces, warmer than Manitoba! On those national forecasts, it would never be the cold spot. And from the vantage point of the Yukon, Minnesota winters don’t look too bad.

Similarly, if I spoke to someone from North Dakota, Alaska, or Siberia, they would have a very different view of Minnesota. But I have to admit I am stretching here. Most of the planet is much warmer than Minnesota, and that is how it will always be. People understandably like to be warm and prefer not having to bundle up or stay inside on bitterly cold days. I need to keep my sense of humor about such things and remind myself that, from most perspectives, walking around in spacesuit-like winter gear for a few months a year is strange and unpleasant. I should also remember that the weather is what helps to keep real estate prices relatively sane–”keeps the riff-raff out,” as I’ve heard people say.

I’m reminded of a time when I was living in New Jersey and a friend used to rib me about being from Minnesota. One of his jokes was to make a whistling sound in my presence, like wind across a frozen prairie. I laughed hard at his wordless joke.

Oh, let me keep on laughing at myself and at my native region, right on through this fast-approaching winter.